


The Feud

by a_good_soldier



Series: Karaoke Boys [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_good_soldier/pseuds/a_good_soldier
Summary: Turns out Shane and Andrew have a little more in common than just being the awkward white guy in their respective duos. (alternatively: wherein shane and andrew decide to do something about the fact that they are both pathetically in love with their coworkers. and by do something, i mean fuck each other in a karaoke bar bathroom.)





	The Feud

**Author's Note:**

> everything about this is extremely embarrassing. if you were waiting on an update to the supernatural wip i have left languishing for over a year, i'm sorry to say that instead of working on that i've descended even further into the hellfire of media-almost-entirely-consumed-by-teenagers. i am writing CLICKBAIT RPF. frankly i'm ashamed of myself & you should be ashamed of yourself too if you're planning on actually reading this nonsense (i'm kidding, i love all my readers and u all are angels too pure for this world).
> 
> this is part one of a three-parter, so there will almost definitely (obviously i can't actually commit to anything because i have the follow-through of a... well, of a millennial fanfiction author) be both a shyan and a standrew follow up to this. in this part the shyan and standrew are background/not technically involved, although they are the subject of a lot of dialogue in this fic anyway. you'll see.
> 
> anyway thats it, i don't think many warnings apply but as always feel free to ask me over on tumblr @agoodsoldier love y'all stay hydrated xoxo

“Oh, buddy,” Shane says, in a tone of voice meant to convey unadulterated pity. Ryan’s cheering with the rest of the crew as Steven starts in on All By Myself, but Shane’s talking to Andrew, who’s nursing a whiskey sour in the dark.

In the dark where, unfortunately, Shane is also nursing his own beer, so he can hardly comment on Andrew’s drinking habits. But he can definitely comment on the starstruck look in Andrew’s eyes as he watches his co-host apply his California drawl to Céline’s francophone vowels.

Andrew, voice impossibly deep, replies, “Shut up, Shane.”

It’s like being back on the Unsolved set. Shane snorts into his beer and sits back, half admiring the muscles in Ryan’s back as he raises his glass to the second chorus. The other half of him is watching Andrew out of the corner of his eyes, looking at the clearly involuntary smile tugging at the corner of Andrew’s mouth. Something in Shane snaps, and he says, inexplicably bitter, “You know he won’t date you if you never speak up.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Andrew replies instantly, unfazed. He doesn’t even bother to fucking look at Shane.

The back of Shane’s neck heats up, and as much as he tries to keep his fucked up thing with Ryan under wraps — hell, as much as he tries to keep it buried deep where it won’t come out until he’s, fuck, three pints in and sitting next to his coworker in the dark — he can’t help saying, “At least I get to fuck him.” He looks back at Ryan and shifts his hips a little, thinking about the way Ryan gets when he’s hard and desperate, the way his voice cracks and his breath hitches. The languorous way Ryan stretches out afterwards, his body open, an expanse of skin Shane drinks in until the moment Ryan leaves him to his empty apartment.

Andrew turns to him, and Christ, Ilnyckyj’s the softest out of them all, that’s for damn sure, but right now he looks like he could _break_ Shane with the set of his jaw and the glint in his eyes. “How’s that working for you,” he says softly, not even bothering to intone it as a question. They both know how it’s working for Shane; it’s obvious in the fact that Shane’s here, powering back beers alone in the dark while Ryan’s out in the spotlight.

Well, he’s not exactly alone, is he?

“You wanna find out?” Shane doesn’t even know what that question means, but the tone of his voice and the way he rests his pint glass against his bottom lip convey his point well enough.

Andrew blinks for a moment, but the drink’s gotten to him too, or at least whatever’s in the air tonight. “Sure.” Andrew sets his empty glass down on the table. “Find me in five.” He heads for the bathroom, and a minute later, as the crowd loses its fucking mind over the full orchestral accompaniment to Steven’s key change, Shane sneaks into the back to follow him. At least this bathroom has single stalls. Non-binary inclusive _and_ great for illicit hookups, Shane notes absurdly.

The bathroom is dimly lit, thank fucking God; Shane’s not sure he would’ve been able to go through with this if he had to look at himself in the mirror in full fluorescent lighting.

“You wanna come down here, or should I get a ladder?” Andrew asks, and that’s enough snark out of him, so Shane leans down to kiss him. Softly, since Andrew seems like that kinda guy, but Andrew’s hands reach up to tangle in Shane’s hair. “That how you kiss Ryan?” Andrew goes on, in that gently mocking tone of his, and Shane realizes, _Oh._ That’s _what we’re doing_.

So he pushes Andrew into the wall next to the sink, and says, “If we’re doing this, wouldn’t you rather I pretend to be Steven?” He pulls back to press closed-mouth kisses to Andrew’s lips, holds Andrew’s face in his hands like they’re in the goddamn Notebook. “ _Andrew_ ,” he simpers.

“Shut up,” Andrew snarls, and twists his fingers in Shane’s hair until his scalp prickles with pain. _Fuck_. And then, as though he didn’t fucking start it, Andrew says, “You gonna play at this the whole time—”

“‘Least until you get your shit together,” Shane bites out, one hand braced against the grody wall by Andrew’s head for support. He bends low to bite at Andrew’s jaw, breathes in the hint of something— cologne, maybe, so faint that Shane hadn’t even smelled it sitting next to him. It’s heady, and Shane has to take a moment to collect himself in the rush of this moment. The rush of a dozen people outside, loud and raucous and muted only slightly by the bathroom door, the way the light gets in Andrew’s hair and the proud jut of his chin. Andrew lets out a little moan and Shane takes it in, lets himself appreciate the sound of a gorgeous man enjoying himself, as he worries a little mark just below Andrew’s ear.

“Oh God,” Andrew moans, words slow and smooth like honey, “fuck, that’s—”

“Yeah?” Shane asks nonsensically, and moves his other hand to Andrew’s hipbone. He pushes up just a little, feeling the skin just under the hem of Andrew’s shirt, and Andrew shudders. “Fuck, you’re so—” He cuts himself off to press kisses into Andrew’s neck.

“So what,” Andrew says, moving one hand down to feel Shane’s chest through his shirt, then down to his dick, as Shane hisses out, _Shit_. “What am I?”

“I dunno, you’re—” and Shane is already getting sex stupid as Andrew fits his hand to the outline of Shane’s dick through his pants. “You’re hot, Ilnyckyj,” he says finally, and even he’s not sure if that’s what he originally meant to say. 

Andrew just replies with a prim, “Oh, why thank you,” and Shane bursts into laughter. Andrew grins, and it sets Shane on an even enough keel to step back. “What’re you—”

“I just wanna,” and Shane drops to his knees.

Andrew blinks. His chest heaves and he says, “You, you really want to—”

“Yeah,” Shane says, leaning forward to unbuckle Andrew’s belt. “If that’s okay.”

Andrew’s voice is so deep it’s barely audible. “If that’s— Are you— God, of course, yeah.”

Shane pulls down Andrew’s underwear — black briefs, which, Shane thinks, are really just a fucking fantastic look on him — to release his cock, half hard. Mouthwatering. Shane strokes it leisurely, licks his lips, and selfishly demands, “You should tell me what you like.”

“I’ll like whatever you do,” Andrew says lowly, eyes fixed to Shane’s hand on his dick.

It’s a nice thing to say, but it’s also a perfect opening. Shane says pointedly, “I’m not a virgin. You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile,” and he sees the moment it gets through to Andrew, since Andrew’s fists clench at his sides, so fast it has to be accidental. “But I haven’t done this a lot.” He looks up and, in an attempt to maybe give Andrew some leverage, too — or maybe it’s an attempt to show him up; Shane doesn’t even fucking know at this point — admits, or brags, “Usually I fuck Ryan’s mouth. He never shuts up otherwise.”

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew says, and his cock twitches in Shane’s hand. “You— you can’t—”

“So, tell me what you like,” Shane says, hoping Andrew and his whiskey-dark voice will actually do it. He just licks the head first, trying to get it wet for his hand.

And Andrew, God bless him, says, “Yeah, that’s— Can I—?” and he puts his hand on Shane’s head.

Shane pulls back and says, “Yeah, just don’t push me down,” and he presses kisses down Andrew’s shaft.

“I won’t,” Andrew promises, and Shane feels his eyes on him. “Yeah, that’s— get it wet,” which is kind of a stupid thing to say, but in Andrew’s mouth the words feel erotic. Shane shivers, and uses his right hand to stroke him. “You can go tighter if you— _Fuck_ yeah, fuck, that’s so good—” and Shane feels an unexpected jolt of pride. He opens his mouth to fit the head of Andrew’s dick inside, and Andrew’s whole body jerks.

He doesn’t say anything, though, so Shane sucks harder, and he’s rewarded with a moan straight out of porn. Fuck yeah. He pushes in a little further, trying to pace himself so he doesn’t choke, and Andrew grunts, hand tightening in Shane’s hair. “Mmh— fuck, _fuck_ ,” Andrew groans, and Shane can feel his face heating. He wraps his hand around the part of Andrew’s dick that’s not in his mouth, and Andrew chokes out, “God, yeah, that’s— _oh_ , yeah.”

Shane tries to go deeper, and feels the head of Andrew’s dick against the back of his mouth, filling him up. Imagining the scene they must make — Shane darts his eyes up to see Andrew’s head tilted back against the wall — he moans a little around the dick in his mouth. He knows he’s drooling but that just makes it hotter, messier. “Shit,” Andrew hisses, fucking in a little deeper, but Shane won’t begrudge him that. He knows full well how good it feels to have someone get off with your cock down their throat. “Shit, fuck, that’s, _yeah_ ,” and it devolves into grunts and curses that Shane wishes he could record for posterity.

Eventually Shane pulls back to breathe, and realizes his cheeks must be red and there are definitely tears in his eyes. “You look amazing,” Andrew says. “Come up here for a sec, let me—” and Shane does, lurching to his feet awkwardly, and Andrew pulls him in for a lingering kiss.

After a beat, Andrew pulls back to ask, “Do you wanna fuck me?” and Shane’s brain shortcircuits.

“What?” Shane clears his throat when it comes out as a half-formed vowel, voice a full octave deeper and cutting in and out. He tries again: “What?”

“I, uh—” and Andrew wraps his hand around Shane’s wrist and pulls it down, flattening Shane’s palm until it cups his bare ass. “If you want.”

“Yeah, I— but— lube,” Shane says stupidly, overtaken with the idea of fucking into Andrew’s ass.

Andrew flushes. “I might’ve, uh, prepared myself. Before going out.” And suddenly Shane realizes that Andrew hadn’t eaten all night, and that must’ve been because he _cleaned himself out_ hoping to get fucked tonight. Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

“That’s hot,” Shane gets out through his suddenly dry mouth. He swallows. “You, uh— can I just—” and he presses his fingers to Andrew’s hole. His index finger slips in without resistance, and he is absolutely mesmerized by the feeling of Andrew’s body clenching around him so unexpectedly. “I—”

“Fuck,” Andrew whispers, and Shane snaps his head back up to see Andrew’s eyes glazed over. After a second, Andrew gets his shit together and says, “I, are you gonna—”

“Yeah,” and Shane maneuvers them so Andrew is bent over the sink. “This okay?”

“S’great,” Andrew mumbles, “hope we don’t break the fucking sink.”

“It’d be worth it,” Shane says, and presses two fingers against Andrew’s hole before he can reply. His fingers sink in without too much trouble, and Shane is transfixed. “God. Your ass is unreal.”

“Yeah?” Andrew shifts back and Shane’s fingers slip in all the way. “Oh, fuck, yeah.”

“Fuck.” Shane pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in again slowly, gently, feeling Andrew tighten around them.

Andrew laughs a little, and before Shane can ask him why, he says: “You fuck Ryan this way?”

It takes a second for the words to process, and then something snaps in him. Shane says, “Oh, you want it that way?” and shoves in three fingers without warning. Andrew moans, loud and unashamed, and Shane grins. “Sorry for taking my time here, didn’t realize we were on such a — _tight_ — schedule.”

“No, I just, you know.” Andrew meets his eyes in the mirror. “Wanted to give you the quality of experience you’re used to.”

It seems like a considerate thing to say, except Andrew’s face clues Shane in to the fact that it’s meant to sting. And it does, sure, the fact that the _experience_ he’s used to with Ryan is seeing each other at work and hanging out in Shane’s apartment and then fucking him whenever Ryan gets an itch he can’t scratch by himself. Christ.

Suddenly it’s too much to just watch his fingers pump in and out of Andrew’s body, and Shane pulls his dick out of his pants. His hand on his own dick after so long feels unreal, and he hisses out an involuntary _Jesus Christ_ as he fumbles to put a condom on.

Shane presses the head of his dick to Andrew’s hole and revels in the tremor in Andrew’s thighs, the way his head instantly drops down to leave the back of his neck exposed, vulnerable. “This what you want, huh?”

“Yeah,” Andrew says, and Shane watches the back of his neck turn red as he pushes in. “Oh, fuck, oh _fuck_ Shane, Christ— fuck—” and Shane can’t tear his eyes away from the rippling of Andrew’s back under his shirt as he lets Shane push inside of him, the way his fingertips press against the sink until they turn white and then release.

“Maybe I should go slower,” Shane muses, stopping entirely. It’s fucking torture, but it’s worth it to see Andrew squirm.

“What the hell are you—”

“It would be Steven’s first time, after all.” Shane would normally feel a little skeevy about roleplaying as a virgin, but Steven’s a full grown adult and this is about Andrew anyway, really. And fuck, the way Andrew shudders when he says it is so fucking hot. “He’d be so nervous. You’d have to tell him what to do. How slow to go.”

“Jesus fuck,” Andrew spits out, hooded eyes shifting up to glare daggers at Shane through the mirror. “Will you just— _fuck_ me already.”

It’s enough of a concession for Shane, who wasn’t all that committed to the game anyway. He pushes in steadily until, Christ, until the backs of Andrew’s thighs meet Shane’s skin. “How’s that,” Shane pants, breath punched out of him.

“S’good,” Andrew admits after a second, the sarcasm fucked out of him. He looks good like this, laid out and half-naked in a bathroom stall, his broad shoulders on full display. Shane pulls back just a little and fucks in fast, and Andrew sucks in a sharp breath. Caught up in the experiment, Shane presses in and out, the slightest of movements, and watches as Andrew falls to fucking pieces, mouth open to let out the quietest, most fucking erotic sounds Shane’s ever heard every single time Shane’s cock shifts inside him.

After he’s recovered from the headspace of seeing Andrew take him for the first time, feeling his tight ass clench around him, Shane lets a sly smirk grow on his face. He adopts an over-quiet, nervous voice and says, “Is that okay, Drew?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Andrew hisses, slapping his hand against the wall in front of him as he pushes back on Shane’s cock. “Don’t fucking— _Christ_ , God that’s good— just— don’t _say_ that shit, I’d bet anything that you—” but he cuts himself off to fuck himself better on Shane’s cock.

“You’d bet anything that what?” Shane asks when he’s gotten his breath back. He finally brings his hands to Andrew’s hips and presses hard, appreciative of Andrew’s skin and muscle beneath his fingertips. He uses his grip to pull Andrew back onto his cock, and Andrew lets out a noise so delicate Shane feels almost bad for teasing him about anything.

He doesn’t feel bad at all once Andrew responds, though, because Andrew says, “This isn’t even about me telling Steven what to do. You’re just used to giving Ryan whatever the hell he wants from you.”

Yeah, right. “Is that _fucking_ so, huh,” Shane spits out, fucking in roughly and reveling in the way Andrew’s breath catches in his throat, the way he groans into the sink. Andrew’s thighs are trembling and Shane grabs one with his hand, holding him up and open so he can fuck him harder. “You gonna talk shit about me all fucking night—”

“He just uses you for your dick, right,” Andrew pants out, “just comes over and fucks you and leaves you—”

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” Shane grits out, somehow harder than ever at the idea of Andrew goddamn _narrating_ his hookups with Ryan, Andrew imagining the two of them in bed together. Fuck. This is so fucked up. The two of them fall silent for a second, the slap of Shane’s hips against Andrew’s ass obscene in the muted bathroom. Low, Shane asks, “You wanna hear how he begs me for it? How he gets when he needs me?”

“F— fuck—” Andrew gasps out, his right hand still on the wall and his left clutching the sink for dear life. “Oh, God—”

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that. He can’t even talk, he’s so— fucking— _desperate_ for it, for something inside of him—”

“Just wait till he finds out about dildos,” Andrew snarks, and instantly chokes out a moan high in the back of his throat when Shane moves the hand on his thigh to his dick in response. “Oh, oh shit—”

“He can’t fuck himself the way I fuck him,” Shane snarls, teeth gritted. It takes all his concentration to keep up his rhythm and stroke Andrew off all at once so he falls quiet, focused on the sensation of Andrew tight around him, the fucking profane noises fucked out of him. “Yeah,” Shane whispers quietly, unthinking.

“M’gonna—“ Andrew groans, loud and heavy, and Shane suddenly realizes that if someone was waiting just outside the door for the bathroom they’d definitely realize what was going on. “Fuck, Shane—”

“Yeah, do it,” and Shane tightens the hand he has on Andrew’s dick and moves his other hand up to pull, just a little bit, at Andrew’s hair, close to his scalp. He’s so high on endorphins that even the tickle of Andrew’s hair against his palm feels fucking incredible. “C’mon, come all over the _fucking_ floor—”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Andrew chokes out, and fucking does it, spilling all over the sink and Shane’s hand and the floor at his feet. Shane pulls his hands back to rest on Andrew’s hips, fucking into him in tiny bursts, overwhelmed by the feeling of Andrew tightening, clenching around him. “Sh— Shane, fuck, _fuck_.” Shane pauses his movements and smooths his hands over Andrew’s back, under his shirt, soothing him through the aftershocks. Andrew shivers for a second, and then catches his breath, sets both of his feet firmly back on the ground.

“Yeah?” Shane asks nonsensically, and Andrew breathes out a shaky, self-conscious _yeah_ in response.

Experimentally, Shane shifts his hips a little, just enough to signal that he’s still hard, and Andrew, the fucking saint, groans, “Yeah, fuck me.”

“You sure?” Shane asks, but he’s already pulling out and pressing back in as Andrew nods his head, hands resting on the sink by his head. Shane watches as Andrew opens his mouth to breathe out something that might’ve been a sound, if this was earlier in the night, every time Shane hits his prostate. Suddenly the sensation is extreme, the stimulation of Andrew’s skin under his fingertips and his sweaty thighs pressed against Shane’s own, and Shane fucks in harder, eyes fixed to where he can see Andrew biting his lip in the mirror.

“Just come in me, c’mon, you wanna—” and Andrew clearly tightens his ass deliberately, and that’s fucking it, Shane’s gone and done for. He fucks in once, twice, and groans out something deep and satisfied. Fuck. He bends over to rest his forehead against the middle of Andrew’s back, just for a second, as he catches his breath and lets the white noise fade out of his ears. Eventually, he exhales and pulls out gently.

Shane waddles awkwardly over to the trash to toss out the condom. “Fuck,” Andrew says, straightening up and looking at himself in the mirror. His shirt is still on and it — he — looks fucking ruined. His pants are around his ankles and Shane offers him a wad of toilet paper to clean himself off before pulling them back up. Andrew laughs, suddenly, and says, “Least we didn’t break the sink.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, the tension suddenly broken. “Close call, though. Wow.” He pulls his own pants up and tries to wrangle his shirt into something resembling decency, but anyone less than five shots in would take one look at them and instantly know what they’ve been up to. Oh, well. It _is_ a karaoke night; once someone breaks out the 90s divas some wild shit is going down no matter what.

Andrew turns around and laughs quietly, not even trying to maneuver his collar into a position where it’ll cover the hickey Shane left. “That was… intense,” he says. His voice is even deeper than it usually is, raspy and tired out. _Fucked out_ , Shane thinks perversely.

“Yeah,” Shane says. “Sorry, I got—”

“I mean, I gave as good as I got—”

“—I don’t wanna—”

“—all I mean is—”

They shut up. Andrew huffs out a breath. Shane offers, “I’m sorry, should we— should we talk about it?”

Andrew shrugs. “I’m not fucked up over it. Not— not more than I was before, anyway.”

“Right.” Shane looks at himself one last time in the mirror. “Okay, me too. Glad we got that out of the way.”

Andrew leans back against the wall. “Jesus. What a fucking mess.”

“You’re telling me,” Shane says solemnly, and they look at each other. Suddenly, Andrew’s busting a gut laughing, and Shane’s right behind him. What a pair they make. Jesus Christ. 

“Okay, I’m gonna get out of this bathroom. Shit. Maybe we should clean up all the fucking jizz on the floor.”

“I’ll do it. After all, it is mine.” Andrew quirks a smile. “Maybe you should go out before me so it’s slightly less suspicious.”

“There’s literally no universe where anyone in this bar leaves unaware of the fact that we fucked in this bathroom,” Shane says.

“Fuck my life,” Andrew snorts, bending down to wipe his own come off the floor, the sink.

After they look around for more evidence of tonight’s tryst, Andrew and Shane both walk out of the door, steeling themselves for the onslaught that’s sure to fall upon them.

There’s no one in the hallway, though, and Shane and Andrew aren’t greeted with anything except drunken smiles when they emerge back into the main area of the bar. “Hey, we were gettin’ worried,” Ryan slurs into Shane’s ear as Andrew is dragged off by Annie and the rest of the Tasty squad.

“S’all good, buddy,” Shane says, meeting Andrew’s eyes through the crowd. Andrew smiles, and then disappears into the ruckus as Niki drags him back to the table to choose a karaoke song.

“Thought you and Andrew were gettin’ into it,” Ryan says quietly.

Shane shakes his head. “Nah,” he says vaguely, eyes inadvertently tracking back to where Andrew’s handing a folded up slip of paper to the hostess. “We’re cool.”

“‘Kay,” Ryan says, appeased, and pulls Shane back to the table to watch as a stranger gets up to belt out Sweet Caroline. Shane yells _So good! So good! So good!_ with the rest of the bar during every chorus. He can’t see Steven anywhere, but that’s a problem for Andrew. He settles back in with his arm around the back of Ryan’s chair, and flags down the waiter to ask for another beer.

Everything about it is still a goddamn mess, but at least, Shane thinks, he’s found someone to commiserate with. They can leave the pining for tomorrow.


End file.
